Page 9 of Wild & Wanted

But Hadley? This sweet young woman just trying to make an honest living? She’s so open, so fiercely genuine and unpretentious, that I'm pretty sure she isn't even capable of lying—or at least, not lying convincingly.

"Come on," I murmur, my voice softening as I lead her down the short hallway. "I'll show you around."

I give her a quick tour, pointing out the small bathroom and the guest room at the end of the hall. "The shower's in there. There’s a clean towel in the cupboard, and I can dig out an old t-shirt or something for you to sleep in. We can go grab some of your things from that dump of a motel tomorrow in the daylight."

Hadley looks up at me, her expression thick with an overwhelming mix of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Wolf. For everything. For keeping me safe."

I feel a muscle tick in my jaw. No one has ever looked at me like that, let alone thanked me with a shy but authentic smile.

"I'll clean the bathroom when I'm done," she tacks on quickly, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "And I can do your laundry in the morning, get these dishes cleared⁠—"

"Hey." I shake my head, cutting her off instantly. All I did was offer basic human courtesy, a shower and a safe place to stay, and here she is ready to scrub my floors with a toothbrush to earn her keep.

I turn to step past her toward the kitchen, but I misjudge the distance in the tight hallway and accidentally bump right into her.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm always getting in the way," she gasps, immediately shrinking back.

I catch her shoulders before she can step away, my hands wrapping firmly around her. My thumbs automatically begin brushing slow, soothing circles against the soft skin on her neck.

"Stop," I rasp, my voice dropping an octave, dead serious. "Look at me, Hadley. Really hear me when I say this."

Her dark brown eyes lock onto mine, wide with alarm. She’s trembling from head to toe as if I’m going to yell at her.

"You are not a burden," I tell her, letting every ounce of conviction I possess bleed into the words. "You deserve to take up space and have needs. You don't have to earn your right to breathe, and you sure as hell don't have to thank me for taking care of you."

Her bottom lip wobbles. God, her eyes well up with heavy tears, threatening to spill over. My chest aches so violently it feels like my heart is bruising against my ribs, which is insane, because I was thoroughly convinced I didn't even have one.

"No one’s ever..." she whispers, a pathetic little hitch catching in her throat. "I mean, I’m usually the one who... I'm always the one fixing things. Just... thank you."

She blinks rapidly, forcing the tears back down, though I know underneath that brave exterior, there's a whole ocean of weight she's carrying. I'll get the full truth out of her eventually. Right now, I just want to absorb her worry and replace it with confidence.

I lean in closer, slow and deliberate. Breathing in her scent of vanilla, rain, and something that’s purely Hadley, I let stray strands of her vibrant red hair tickle my lips and nose until my mouth brushes right against the sensitive shell of her ear.

"What did I say about thanking me?" I murmur against her skin.

A shiver runs straight down her spine. I press a lingering, reverent kiss to her temple, feeling her hands slide hesitantly up my chest until her palms rest flat against my pecs.

I have to physically bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a groaning curse at her tentative, feather-light touch. Knowing I'm about to break my own rules if I stay within arm's reach for one more second, I slowly step back. I have to let her go before I do something completely unhinged, like strip us both bare and haul her naked body into the shower with me.

"Go take your shower," I command roughly, clearing my throat as I turn toward the living room. "I'll clean up out here."

While she’s locked away in the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing softly down the hall, I force myself to stay busy. I toss out the empty takeout boxes, load the sink, and pace across the floorboards. But my brain is entirely hijacked by vivid, dangerous images of hot water cascading over her soft curves.

I yank my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Stryker, letting him know about the major weight discrepancies and corrupted manifests we found at the warehouse, adding that we need to talk face-to-face tomorrow.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I let out a sigh as a heavy, deeply unsettling knot twists in my gut. The syndicate behind this smuggling ring isn't playing games. Anyone who saw those manifests, anyone who gets too close to the truth, becomes a liability they’ll want to erase.

Panic spikes hot and sharp through my veins, immediately overwritten by cold, ruthless territory-claim. Not her. They will have to go through every single member of the Rebel Kings MC, starting with me, before they lay a finger on Hadley. I just found her. No power in this universe is going to take her from me.

A little while later, the bathroom door clicks open, and Hadley joins me in the small living room, wrapped in one of my oversized black t-shirts that hangs off her shoulder like a second skin. The pair of sweatpants she’s wearing are comically large on her, and I notice she had to roll up the pant legs just so she can walk without tripping. Fucking adorable.

We sit down on the worn leather couch to talk about what she found in the manifests. My protective, militant biker instinct is to lock her out of the danger entirely, to give her zero details so she can remain blissfully ignorant. But the harsh reality hits me: she’s already standing in the crosshairs. She has a right to know why she’s a target.

As I lay out the gravity of the smuggling setup and what the syndicate is capable of, I watch the color drain from her face.

Suddenly, she stands up, starting to pace across the small rug. Her breathing turns shallow, her eyes growing wide and frantic.

"If... if something happens to me," she babbles, her hands flying up to grip her hair, "if I lose this job or end up in trouble, my family back home won't be able to make rent. My mom already works two full-time jobs, and Corinne is barely twenty, but she’s trying to juggle scholarship applications while babysitting, pulling shifts at the diner with Mom, and doing freelance photography on the side. We're all working as much as humanly possible, but there’s never enough money at the end of the month. Leo needs new shoes, my mom’s car is falling apart, and⁠—"